The everyday blog of Richard Bartle.
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12:23pm on Saturday, 30th July, 2005:
At about 11:00 this morning, I went into the garage ready to drive to Sainsbury's for the weekly shop.
The garage door was open.
It had been open all night. I knew, because some animal had come in and attacked the full bin bag that was in there (on account of how I didn't get up in time to put it out for the bin men on Friday). Apart from the animal intrusion, though, everything was untouched. No passing opportunistic thief decided to come in and steal my pushbike or my mower or my pesticides or my tools or my collection of egg boxes or my nearly-empty tins of paint. Amazing. Living in a village with no street lighting does occasionally have its advantages.
The worrying thing is, though, that I don't know how the garage door came to be open. Every night (or, in this case, at 2am in the morning) just before I go to bed I throw all the previous day's papers into the recycling pile (in the garage) then I lock the interior garage door and that's that. I would have noticed if the exterior door was open when I did it.
Our garage door is electric. It has a digital code sequence to open it, unique to this lock. It's nigh impossible that it would have been opened by a freak power surge or someone living nearby with the same key. I suppose someone could have captured the key by hiding in a bush with a radio spectrum analyser when I opened it some day, but if they did then why didn't they take anything?
Sometimes, when I leave the bathroom I switch the light off, but wasn't on anyway, so I actually switch it on. I guess I must have done something similar here — closing the garage door, but it was already closed, so I opened it.
I'm so glad I'm bigger than my wife or she'd have beaten me with a spade when she found out.
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